Andromeda
by Girl in a White Dress
Summary: Frankie is kidnapped as a result of her involvement with Alpha-126. But by the time Kilmer realizes she's missing, it may be too late to save her. COMPLETE!
1. frankie

Spoilers: Minor ones for Natural Borne Killers and Alpha-126

Disclaimer: Not my characters.

A/N: No offense intended to the Muslim community. Hassan and Fasil are the products of my own twisted imagination and not based on anyone real. Also, I have no idea what Kilmer and Frankie's backgrounds were like, so I made them up.

* * *

Did you want to see me broken?

Bowed head and lowered eyes?

Shoulders falling down like teardrops,

Weakened by my soulful cries.

--Maya Angelo, "Still I Rise"

* * *

__

chapter one: frankie

Ali Hassan studied the outer face of the building in Georgetown. There was nothing to suggest the kind of people who lived inside, but Hassan knew. He'd lived in this country long enough to know that Americans were all the same – selfish, greedy heathens. Hassan shuffled into the lobby, a peaked cap hiding his face. He carried a pizza box and avoided looking at anyone as he stepped into the elevator.

"Floor?"

He glanced at the speaker, a pretty blonde wearing jeans and a tight sweater. Slut, he thought. "Two," he said.

She pressed the button and leaned against the mirror. Hassan wished the elevator would move faster. He was eager to get this job done. When he reached his floor, he left without looking at the blonde. By the time he reached his destination, he had forgotten all about her.

He knocked on the door. "Pizza delivery!"

Another woman opened the door. Hassan frowned; was Allah testing him? No, he thought. He was reminding him of the importance of his duty. One day the world would be as it should and these harlots would accept their proper place in it.

"I'm sorry," the woman said. "I didn't order pizza."

Hassan smiled, feigning confusion. "I'm sure this is the right address." He reached into his pocket as if to retrieve a receipt. Instead, he pulled out a cloth soaked with chloroform. Dropping the empty pizza box, he grabbed the woman and held the cloth to her mouth. She struggled, but was too weak to fight him off.

Hassan kicked the box inside and dragged her to the couch, then locked the door. He wiped the doorknob to get rid of his fingerprints then put on a pair of latex gloves. He disposed of the box in the woman's kitchen, then searched through the cupboards for alcohol. When he found a bottle of whiskey hidden behind a box of cereal, he smiled.

Fasil was right, he thought. When they'd planned this, Fasil had discovered the woman, Mary Price, was a recovering alcoholic. He'd told Hassan not to buy alcohol, certain that Mary Price would have some hidden in her apartment.

Hassan emptied the bottle into the sink. He left the tap running and took the empty bottle to the living room. Mary Price was still unconscious. Hassan put the bottle in her hand, closing her fingers around it. In the morning, she would wake up thinking she was suffering from a hangover.

He returned to the kitchen, cleared up what little mess he'd made, and turned the tap off. He left the apartment via the sliding door, letting it latch closed behind him. Thankful that this was only the second floor, he climbed from Mary Price's balcony to her neighbor's.

Almost done! With a quick prayer of thanks to Allah for protecting him so far, Hassan took a lock picking kit from his pocket. Within a minute, he was inside.

He took his time studying the apartment, noticing how different it was to Mary Price's. Everything was neat – so neat that it was hard to believe someone actually lived here. There were a few photographs – a man and a woman he assumed were the woman's parents, her ex-husband, and other people he didn't recognize. A vase of flowers was on the coffee table; Hassan sneered. Flowers. Women were the same all over.

He paused. The books on the shelf weren't those ridiculous romances American women liked, but were about the criminal mind, politics and terrorism. Most surprising was the copy of the Qur'an.

Perhaps not all Americans were so weak, he thought.

Then he remembered why this woman had been chosen and hardened his heart. She was the very worst, one who thought herself equal to men and who abused the power she had been given. Allah would deal with her eventually, but Fasil would teach her first.

The phone rang. Hassan froze, breathing a sigh of relief when the answering machine picked up. He smiled as the man spoke.

"Hey, it's me. Look, I'm sorry about today. I know you're not feeling well . . . Take the next couple of days off, okay? See you on Monday."

Monday, Hassan thought. Tonight was Wednesday. By Monday she would be dead. But what a blessing! Surely Allah was smiling on them. Now all he needed was for her to come home.

He waited.

* * *

Frankie wanted nothing more than a cup of coffee, a soak in the tub, then sleep. Maybe it was time for a vacation, she thought tiredly. She couldn't remember the last time she'd had a break from work.

And a break from Kilmer.

Just thinking about Kilmer made her blood boil. Of all people, he knew most how much stress she'd been under lately. The trial had taken a lot out of her and there had been no time to relax in the weeks since then. Life seemed to be a series of one crisis after another. And today Kilmer'd had the gall to yell at her for arriving late. It wasn't her fault she was sick and she had told him as much, holding up the bag of medication as proof.

No. Frankie wasn't going to think about Kilmer tonight. The way she was feeling, she might just skip coffee and the bath and go straight to bed.

Ally Jackson was stepping out of the elevator as she got in. They smiled at each other.

"Hey, Frankie. Tough day, huh?"

Frankie nodded. "You have no idea."

Ally laughed, tossing her hair over her shoulder. "You need to get out more. I can hang around if you feel like joining me tonight?"

Frankie smiled, thinking how easy it was to be Ally's friend. They had this conversation almost every week. "Maybe some other time."

"Sure. Get some rest."

Frankie let the doors slide closed and pressed the button for her floor. Once again, her thoughts drifted to Kilmer.

It was a rare day that she didn't wonder what had possessed her to agree to work with him. She'd never really considered herself masochistic, but lately she'd started to wonder about that. Of course, there were some benefits to working together. They knew each other so well that they were often able to anticipate what the other was thinking.

The drawback was that they knew each other _too_ well and at times, it was hard to look past their shared history.

Frankie sighed, resolving once again to banish all thought of all Kilmer until tomorrow. She unlocked her front door, switching on the light as she stepped into the apartment. She put her gun down on the coffee table and draped her coat over the couch. The message light was blinking on her answering machine. Frankie ignored it.

Her curtain billowed gently in the evening breeze. Frankie frowned; she never left her windows open. Instantly on guard, she looked around to see if anything was out of place.

Strong arms enveloped her from behind and a hand covered her mouth. She recognized the sickly sweet smell of chloroform and bit down on the hand. The man swore in a foreign language. Frankie elbowed him in the gut and managed to break free. She darted for her gun. Her attacker lunged at her, tackling her to the ground. There was a sharp pain in her forehead as her head hit the edge of the coffee table, then nothing.

* * *

Sadiq Fasil was in the middle of a prayer when his cell phone rang. Asking forgiveness for the interruption, he picked up the phone and answered with a brusque, "What?"

"Salaam aleikum, brother."

Fasil relaxed. "Hassan. Tell me you have good news."

"I have the woman. She fought me. I had to injure her."

"But she is alive?" Fasil asked. It would defeat the purpose if she were already dead.

"She is alive."

"Good. Well done, brother. Aleikum salaam." Fasil hung up and kneeled to resume his prayers.

It had begun.


	2. business as usual

A/N: Thanks to Felicia for pointing me in the right direction regarding Frankie & John's background. I've twisted it to suit my own nefarious purposes ::evil grin:: If what I have doesn't match the official version, please just bear in mind that most of the story was plotted in detail before I found out. Or, you know, just put it down to artistic license :o)

And thanks for the awesome feedback. I had no idea so many people were interested in TM fic.

chapter two: business as usual

Frankie woke up shivering. It was too dark to make out where she was. She coughed, then winced as her chest burned. Her head hurt too. She reached up and gingerly touched her forehead. She could feel the dry blood caked down the side of her face.

Fantastic, she thought. She was sick, injured and a prisoner.

And she was naked, she realized in horror.

She coughed again, then curled up in an attempt to stay warm. Mentally, she ran through what little information she knew. The man had spoken Arabic. He had used chloroform, which meant this wasn't random. Frankie sighed; the list of people who had reason to hurt her was far too long.

Frankie wondered how long she'd been unconscious. In the morning, Kilmer would worry when she didn't arrive for work. He'd check her apartment and he'd look for her. She didn't doubt she would be found. She could last until then.

She had to.

* * *

"Where's Frankie?" Lark asked. The team was assembled in the Vault, waiting for the morning's briefing.

Kilmer shrugged. "At home, I suppose. I gave her a couple of days off."

"How noble of you," Tim said dryly.

Kilmer didn't respond. He was aware how badly he'd come across during the argument with Frankie yesterday. No one understood his real reason for being angry, and he wasn't about to admit it to everyone.

He knew exactly how long it took for Frankie to get to work. When she was late, he'd immediately assumed the worst. He'd imagined a car accident, Frankie being rushed to a hospital somewhere or, worse, trapped in the car, dying. When she'd walked in without so much as an apology, he'd gone from fear to anger.

He refused to think about why he'd had such a strong reaction. There was nothing between him and Frankie now. They were coworkers, that was all. If they tried, he supposed they could be friends, but they weren't there yet.

He also refused to think about why the Vault seemed so empty without her here.

Atkins arrived and Kilmer pushed thoughts of his ex-wife aside.

"Good morning," Atkins said. "Nothing exciting so far. There's a freighter drifting towards Florida that needs checking out. Coast guard's not getting a response and they're concerned it may have been abandoned."

"Tim, Mo, can you handle that?"

The men nodded, surprised. Kilmer liked to be involved. It was unlike him to sit back and let others take charge.

"Where's Frankie?" Atkins asked.

Kilmer scowled. "Sick." He stood and left the room, oblivious to the looks of amusement shared by his team.

* * *

Mary Price sat up slowly, wondering why her head was pounding. She swallowed the feeling of nausea and stood. Her bare foot touched something cold. Confused, Mary looked down and began to cry when she saw the empty whiskey bottle.

"Oh, no. No."

She sat down again, burying her face in her hands. She'd been doing so well. Why hadn't she got rid of the bottle ages ago? Worst of all, there was an AA meeting tonight. How could she attend after this? Her sponsor would be so disappointed in her.

Ray was right to leave her, she thought. She was a failure. She was useless.

Well, there was one thing she was good at. Mary went to her bedroom and took a bottle of vodka from her bottom drawer. Still crying, she opened it and raised it to her lips. She couldn't remember what had made her get drunk last night, but alcoholics never needed a reason.

* * *

Frankie knew what they were doing. She'd seen it done a thousand times before. Not once had she ever thought she would be in this situation. They were trying to weaken her. The darkness and the cold were supposed to disorient her. Taking her clothes was intended to make her feel powerless.

But she refused to let them break her. She was strong.

She had no idea how much time had passed since she was taken. For all she knew, it could have been hours or it could have been days.

Kilmer would find her. She believed that with every fiber of her being.

Kilmer. She regretted her coolness to him now. When he got her out of here, she'd apologize. He'd just been worried about her. She'd known he would be, and she'd let him. Maybe she'd wanted to see if he still cared.

She should have told him she'd be late. She was too old to be acting like a child.

He would be worried now, but there was nothing she could do about that.

She coughed again, then pressed a hand to her chest. If she came out of this without bronchitis or pneumonia, she'd be lucky.

Don't think about the pain. Think of something happy.

Kilmer.

She'd had flu the first year they were married. He'd driven around in the middle of the night to find an open pharmacy. He'd made chicken soup for her and held her when she'd had a coughing fit.

Frankie closed her eyes and imagined Kilmer's arms around her now.

* * *

Kilmer drummed his fingers on the desk, staring at the phone. He didn't realize Holly was standing in front of him until she banged on the desk. He looked up. "What?"

Call her, Holly signed.

Kilmer shook his head.

Why not?

"The last thing she wants is a phone call from me."

Maybe she's also staring at the phone, waiting for it to ring. Holly put her hands on her hips and tilted her head.

"Don't you have work to do?"

She shrugged. _If you're not going to call, at least stop sulking._

Kilmer picked up a piece of paper, looking at it without reading. Holly banged her palm on the desk again.

It's upside down. She smiled sweetly before returning to her workstation.

Kilmer let the paper fall to his desk and resumed staring at the phone. Half an hour later, Lark sat in front of him.

"So much for no excitement today."

"What happened?" At last, he thought, something constructive to do.

"This freighter Mo and Tim went to check out? Turns out it's been drifting for weeks. The entire crew is dead – unknown pathogen. The cargo is a bunch of African trinkets. Jelani's tracing it right now."

"And Mo and Tim?"

"The CDC's got them quarantined."

Kilmer stood. "Okay."

"Hold your horses. Atkins says it's not our problem anymore. The CDC's in charge until they figure out what killed all the people."

"But—"

Lark smiled, the picture of innocence. "Hey, how's Frankie? Holly said you were going to call her."

Kilmer glared at her. "I'm going to see what Jelani's got."

* * *

Frankie had never liked the dark. In her experience, bad things happened in the dark. As a child, she'd lain awake and listened to her parents fight. The car accident that had taken them away from her had happened at night. Her aunt's husband – she could never think of him as her uncle – had "visited" her when everyone else was asleep, telling her he loved her and asking her not to cry.

Blinking back tears, Frankie tried to forget. Tried to think of good things about the dark. She remembered all-night conversations with Kilmer, their honeymoon . . .

Why did everything always come back to Kilmer? She'd thought she was over him.

Obviously not. It looked like thinking of him was the only thing that would keep her sane though, and she was okay with that.

But they were going to have to talk when she got out of here.

* * *

Hassan got up and walked to the cellar door, pressing his ear against the wood. He turned to Fasil.

"She still has not spoken."

Fasil shrugged dismissively. "She will."

"She is stronger than I thought. Stronger than most women."

"Because she acts like a man. She has a man's job, she lives alone, she dresses like a man." Fasil gestured to the clothes they'd taken off her: a button-up blouse and pants. Women were supposed to be modest.

Hassan continued to listen at the door. "She sounds sick."

"Allah has cursed her. He wants her to suffer."

Hassan nodded. Fasil was right. The woman had dishonored Allah; of course she must suffer. She was to be made an example of. America must know that Allah would not tolerate disobedience. "When will you speak to her?"

Fasil smiled. "Tomorrow."

"It is freezing down there. Will she survive the night?"

"If Allah wills it."

Hassan was not completely callous. Later, when Fasil went to relieve himself, he took a blanket down for the woman.


	3. angel

__

chapter three: angel

Kilmer held her. He was warm and Frankie smiled. "I knew it. I knew you'd come for me."

"You were late. I was worried." He ran his fingers through her hair and pressed a kiss to her forehead. "You should have called."

"I know. I'm sorry. I'm glad you're here."

Frankie coughed and Kilmer disappeared. She wept, clutching the blanket in her fists . . .

Blanket? Where had the blanket come from?

She had a vague memory of someone coming in and covering her with it. Frankie wrapped it around her body, trying not to think about how much time had passed, or how thirsty she was.

Kilmer would find her.

Kilmer would come.

* * *

"Hey, Kilmer." Jelani raised his hand in greeting. "Our freighter left the port of Sassandra on the Ivory Coast eight weeks ago, bound for the Bahamas."

"Why would you export African trinkets to be sold in the Bahamas?" Lark asked. "If you go to the Bahamas, buy Bahaman tourist junk."

Better yet, Holly signed, _spend your money sightseeing instead._

Kilmer shook his head, more irritable than he'd been the previous day. "Can we focus, please?"

"Sorry, boss." Jelani looked anything but sorry.

How's Frankie feeling?

Kilmer ignored Holly's question. "What's the status on Tim and Mo?"

"They're still under quarantine." Lark was instantly professional again. "The CDC hasn't had any luck in identifying the pathogen. Neither of the guys are too happy. Tim, especially."

Jelani laughed. "Oh, yeah. He's got a hot date tonight."

"And CDC still doesn't want us involved?" Kilmer asked.

Lark shook her head. "Nope. You know how territorial they get. Remember how torn up they were when we took over that Ebola case?"

"We've got more pressing matters," Atkins said from the top of the stairs. The team fell silent. "How well can you work with three people short, Kilmer?"

"We'll cope." Kilmer wasn't about to drag Frankie out of bed. He had firsthand experience of how cranky she was when she was sick.

Atkins didn't look convinced. "I wanted to wait a while before putting your newest team member to work."

The team exchanged confused glances.

"Newest team member?" Kilmer asked. Atkins should have briefed him before; he hated being left out of the loop.

Atkins didn't answer. He gestured to someone behind him. A few seconds later, a tall redhead was at his side. "Lieutenant Colonel Angeline O'Reilly. She graduated top of her class at Quantico before she joined the Marines. I expect you to make her feel welcome." The last part of his sentence was directed straight at Kilmer.

Kilmer gave a terse nod; he got the message, but he wasn't happy about it. When the team had been formed, Atkins had let Kilmer handpick whom he wanted on board. He wondered how many strings had been pulled for O'Reilly and who had wanted her here. And why he hadn't been forewarned.

"Right," Atkins continued. "Sadiq Fasil was spotted at Dulles early last week."

"How early?" Jelani was already typing away.

"Monday."

"Monday! That's twelve days. Why are we only finding out about it now?" Kilmer stared up at Atkins.

"Who's Sadiq Fasil?" Lark asked.

"He's a Muslim extremist with ties to Black Sun," Angeline said, naming a well-known terrorist organization. She came down the stairs to join the team. "He enjoys torturing people – he's suspected to have been involved in torturing American soldiers in Iraq – but his specialty is explosives."

Angeline smiled, revealing a row of perfect, white teeth. "Fortunately, so is mine."

"He's been linked to the embassy bombing in Mogadishu," Jelani said, reading from the screen.

Kilmer stood. "Okay. Holly, Jelani, see if you can find out where he was before he came here. Do we have a photograph?"

Here. Holly handed him one she'd just printed.

"Lark, stay here. See what you can do about getting Tim and Mo back. O'Reilly, you're with me."

* * *

Hassan glanced at the cellar door. "I thought you were going to talk to her today."

"I thought you were making coffee." Fasil looked pointedly at the kettle.

Hassan filled it with water and took two mugs from the cupboard. He looked through the window; farmland stretched out for miles around them. They might just as well be the last people left on earth. Spooning coffee powder into the mugs, he was struck by a thought.

"What if the Americans don't understand the message?"

Fasil's smile was cold. "They will understand."

Hassan wasn't so sure. If the Americans were as stupid as Fasil kept telling him, how could they possibly understand?

* * *

Kilmer wasn't coming.

She was going to die here.

No, she refused to accept that. Frankie got to her feet, determined to find a way out. She had not survived everything else in her life just to die like this. She put her hand against the wall and slowly made her way around the room.

"Shit!" She stubbed her toe on something. Wait, there was light coming from somewhere. She looked up, and realized that there was a door. Which meant what she'd bumped into was a staircase.

Frankie climbed slowly to the top, her muscles sore and stiff. Her hands trembling from the cold, she tried the doorknob. It was locked. She started to bang against it.

"Hey! Let me out of here! Hey! Hey!"

When there was no response, Frankie got even angrier. She beat the door harder, then accidentally stepped backwards and fell down the stairs.

* * *

Kilmer didn't say a word to Angeline on the way to Dulles. He was civil to her as they questioned the airport employees and looked at the security footage. They came away with the information that Fasil had simply walked out of the airport and climbed into a waiting car – useless in that no one could say where he had gone or what the driver of the vehicle looked like. Depending on which eyewitness was to be believed, the car was green or gray or blue.

"Well, that was a waste of time," Kilmer said on the drive back.

"Not really. We know he's definitely in the country."

She was far too perky, Kilmer thought. "I wouldn't have come here if I thought he wasn't."

Angeline smiled. "Why don't you like me?"

"I don't even know you." Kilmer kept his eyes on the road. A slight detour would take them past Frankie's apartment. He debated checking up on her, then thought better of it. He didn't feel like introducing her to Angeline yet.

"My mother is French, my father is Irish-American. I'm thirty-two, I'm a Scorpio, and I like pasta. And everyone calls me Angel."

Kilmer found himself smiling. "Are you an angel?"

"I can be whatever you want me to be." Angel laughed at the look on Kilmer's face. "Sorry. I couldn't resist."

"Fair enough."

"You'll have to find out the rest from my file."

"I suppose you've read mine." Kilmer glanced at her long enough to see her blush. Again, he wondered who she really was and why she had left the Marine Corps.

"Guilty as charged. I wanted to know who I'd be working with before I agreed to the job." She paused. "Can I ask a question?"

"Go ahead."

"Why do you work with your ex-wife? Isn't it awkward?"

Kilmer didn't answer. Angel stared down at her lap.

"Okay, I guess that's none of my business."

Kilmer was silent until they arrived at the Vault. Truth be told, the question hadn't really surprised him. He wished he knew the answer himself. His relationship with Frankie was too complicated to put into words.

And now Angel had got him wondering. Why did he work with Frankie? Was it because she was the best profiler in the country, or was there another, deeper, reason?

* * *

"I've got you, Frankie. I'm here."

Frankie smiled up at Kilmer. "I thought you weren't coming."

"I'd never leave you. You know that."

Even as he said it, he began to disappear. Frankie managed to sit up and wiped away her tears with a corner of the blanket. She was lucky that she hadn't broken any bones in the fall, but her head was still sore and her cough was getting worse.

She leaned against the wall and closed her eyes. Kilmer was there and it was their wedding day.

"You're beautiful."

Her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. "This doesn't feel real."

"I know what you mean." He kissed her, then pulled her to her feet. "Dance with me."

* * *

They fit together as if they were made for each other. Swaying to the rhythm of the song, Kilmer bent his head to her ear and said, "I'm the luckiest man in the world. I think I was born to love you, Mrs. Kilmer."

"Fasil traveled here under the name of Muhammad Najeer," Jelani said. "He came from Abu Dhabi, pretending to be a businessman."

Kilmer paced the room. "What about Black Sun?"

"They pretty much dropped off the radar after Mogadishu."

"Some people think Fasil _is_ Black Sun," Angel said.

"Jelani, are there any parades or anything coming up? Visiting diplomats? Special events?" Kilmer stopped. "There's also the possibility that he's already done what he came here to do."

Angel shook her head. "We'd know if he had. Fasil would want a spectacle."

We need Frankie, Holly signed.

"No. She's sick."

She can get inside his head quicker than the rest of us.

"Holly's right," Lark said.

Angel tapped her pen on the table. "She doesn't need to get out of bed to do it."

Kilmer looked around at his team. They were right. He sighed. "Give me the file."


	4. the chained lady

A/N: Thanks for the feedback. I really appreciate it. I'm trying not to make the wait between chapters too long, but sometimes real life just won't cooperate!

chapter four: the chained lady

Frankie was lying in Kilmer's arms, staring up at the night sky. He'd been naming constellations, pointing them out and explaining the stories behind them.

"You're smarter than I thought you were," she said.

He laughed. "You can thank my mother. She's a mythology nut."

"What's that one?" Frankie pointed to a long line of bright stars.

"Andromeda. Her father sacrificed her to the gods for her mother's vanity – see, there are her arms chained to a rock."

Frankie propped herself up on an elbow and looked down at Kilmer. "How did she die?"

"She was supposed to be eaten by a sea monster. But Perseus – you can see him standing over her – saw her and rescued her. He was apparently overcome by her beauty and couldn't bear to let her die."

The stars disappeared and Frankie was in the cellar again. She closed her eyes, willing herself back with Kilmer.

"They call her the Chained Lady," Kilmer said. "She's you."

"John, don't leave me." She threw her arms around his neck.

He kissed her. "I won't."

* * *

Kilmer knocked on Frankie's door. Knowing how much Frankie loved flowers and hoping that something bright and colorful might cheer her up, he'd bought a dozen yellow roses. He didn't find it at all significant that he'd forked out an exorbitant amount of money to get roses in December, rationalizing that he owed her an apology for yelling at her.

The elevator doors opened and he turned, hoping Frankie would get off. A tired-looking woman shuffled towards him instead. He tried knocking again.

"I think she's gone away," the woman said. She unlocked the door next to Frankie's.

"Gone away?"

"Haven't seen her in . . . I don't know. I usually see her in the mornings. I haven't the past few days."

Kilmer nodded and waited for the woman to enter her apartment before he resumed knocking. Frankie wouldn't go away when she was ill. And if she had, she would have called to let him know.

There was still no answer from inside. Kilmer began to worry; she could be too sick to get out of bed. He picked the lock, not really caring if anyone was around to see him, and let himself into Frankie's apartment.

"Frankie?"

He went straight to the bedroom, surprised to find the bed neatly made.

"Frankie?"

Dropping the file on the bed, he checked the bathroom and the spare room. Nothing. He went back into the living room. This time he noticed that her gun was on the coffee table and the flowers in the vase were dead. Worry pricked at the edge of his conscious; Frankie would have thrown them out when she noticed them dying.

Most disturbing was the dried blood on the carpet.

He hadn't worn his earpiece because he hadn't wanted the team here with them. Now he pulled it from his pocket, fitted it to his ear and switched it on.

"Jelani, I need you to send Lark here with her field kit."

"What's wrong?"

Kilmer saw the red light blinking on Frankie's answering machine. He pressed 'play' and heard himself speak. "Hey, it's me. Look, I'm sorry about today. I know you're not feeling well . . . Take the next couple of days off, okay? See you on Monday."

She never got the message. She hadn't come to work and he'd assumed . . . he'd assumed . . .

"Kilmer? What is it?" Jelani's voice broke through.

He took a deep breath. "Frankie's missing. I think she's been gone since Wednesday."

"Maybe she took off for a couple days—"

"There's blood."

Jelani was silent. Kilmer heard Lark say, "I'm on my way."

Kilmer leaned against the wall, his knees suddenly weak. Frankie was gone and he'd had no idea anything was wrong.

* * *

Someone grabbed Frankie's arm and pulled her up the stairs. She knew immediately that it wasn't Kilmer; he would never be that rough with her. She was pushed onto a chair and blinked as her eyes adjusted to the light.

"Do you know what you are being punished for?" The man's voice was heavily accented, hinting at a Middle Eastern origin. He wasn't a particularly large man, but Frankie sensed a viciousness about him.

"My name is Frankie Ellroy-Kilmer," she began. The man slapped her across the face.

"I know who you are, bitch. Do you know why you're being punished?"

"May I have some water?" Her throat was dry and it was difficult to speak.

"No."

"But, Fasil—"

"Shut up."

Frankie glanced at the other man. He was younger than her interrogator. She guessed he was the one who had given her the blanket. Maybe she would find an ally in him.

She started coughing.

"Get her water," Fasil said. "And find something for her to wear."

Frankie knew it wasn't for her sake that the younger man brought her a dress, but she was glad anyway. She smiled when he put a glass of water on the table. "Thank you. What's your name?"

Fasil laughed. "Why must he tell you his name? So you can tell your friends when you are free?"

"I think you wouldn't let me see your face if you intended to set me free." She studied the man in front of her. "You're Sadiq Fasil."

He shrugged. "What is a name?"

"What do you want with me?"

"You need to be held accountable for your crimes."

"And what are my crimes?" Frankie shivered. Even with the dress she'd been given, she was still cold.

"You are a murderer. Although your American courts do not think so, Allah does, and it is Allah who is judging you."

Frankie sipped the water slowly, wanting to make it last as long as possible. "This is about Alpha-126?"

Fasil slammed his fist down on the table. "He has a name!"

"You just said names aren't important." Frankie stared up insolently at him. He could do what he wanted to her but she would not be cowed.

"He had a family, a child. He is missed. You, on the other hand . . . no children, no parents. Even your husband would not stay married to you."

"My friends will come for me. John will find me."

Fasil laughed. "Your friends? They do not even know you are missing. There have been no television reports, nothing in your newspapers. And John? Your _ex_-husband? Why should he care about you anymore?"

Feigning bravado, she sat up straight. "So why don't you just go ahead and kill me?"

Fasil smiled. "Allah will tell me when the time is right."

Frankie shivered. His eyes were empty, soulless. She tried to crawl inside his mind, but what she knew so far scared her.

"'Fight in the cause of Allah those who fight you, but do not transgress limits; for Allah loves not transgressors.' How is what you're doing self-defense?"

"Hassan, take her down again. Looking at her makes me sick." He turned away.

Fasil wouldn't just kill her, Frankie realized. He was playing with her. He would use her death to make a statement.

And he would make her suffer first.

* * *

Kilmer stood against the wall and watched Lark process Frankie's apartment. Angel had come with her and was talking to Frankie's neighbors. Kilmer couldn't look away from the blood. It wasn't bad enough that she was missing, but she was injured as well.

For all they knew, she could already be dead.

No, he would not accept that. If Frankie was dead, he was sure that he would feel it.

There was a knock at the door, and a voice calling, "Frankie?"

Kilmer opened it, surprised to see a pretty blonde on the other side.

"Oh, hey," she said. "Sorry, I didn't realize Frankie had company."

"Who are you?"

"Ally Jackson. I live one floor up. I came by to see if Frankie wanted to come to a party with me, but I guess she's got other plans." Ally shrugged and turned to go.

Kilmer caught her arm. "When was the last time you saw Frankie?"

"Wednesday night. She looked pretty bad so I figured she was sick. Is she feeling better yet?"

"Do you know her well?"

"Yeah, I guess." Ally narrowed her eyes. "Hey, how come you're asking so many questions? Who are you?"

"John Kilmer. I—"

"Ah, the ex."

"Frankie's missing."

"No way." Ally shook her head.

"We think she disappeared on Wednesday evening. Did you see anything out of the ordinary? Anyone who doesn't live here?"

"Well, there was the pizza guy. But he seemed pretty normal. He wasn't too friendly though. He looked at me like I was . . . I don't know, like he was looking through me."

Kilmer studied Ally. She was attractive and probably used to positive male attention. No wonder the pizza guy's disinterest had seemed odd. He handed Ally a card. "Thanks. If you remember anything else, call me. Any time."

Ally nodded. She turned to leave then looked back over her shoulder. "Hey, I know it's none of my business, but Frankie still cares about you. You have to find her."

"I will," Kilmer said, more to himself than to Ally. "I'll find her."

Angel left Mary Price's apartment, shaking her head as she joined Kilmer in the hallway. "That poor woman."

"Did she see anything?"

"No. She's a recovering alcoholic and on Wednesday night, she fell off the wagon. She's sober now, but she says the last two days are fuzzy."

Kilmer swore. "Well, isn't that convenient."

Angel took his arm, leading him back into Frankie's apartment. "Let's see if Lark found anything useful."

Lark was packing up when they reached her. "I've only found Frankie's fingerprints. I've taken a sample of the blood but I think we can assume it's hers."

Kilmer looked around the apartment. He could see subtle touches of Frankie here and there and he suddenly ached to see her again.

"Kilmer?"

He shook his head, returning to the present. "Let me get the file, then we can go."

In the bedroom, he sat on the edge of the bed and picked up a pillow. It smelled of Frankie.

"Where are you, Mrs. Kilmer?"

People didn't just vanish into thin air. Frankie's kidnapper wasn't perfect; he must have screwed up at some point. All they needed was to find out what that mistake was. They had to; the alternative was unthinkable.

Kilmer felt ill. He went into the bathroom for some water, noticing that the toilet seat was up. To his knowledge, Frankie wasn't seeing anyone – at least, he hoped she wasn't seeing anyone – so that left only one other option.

"Hey, Lark. Did you dust for prints in the bathroom?"

Lark came into the bathroom. "Yeah . . . Wait. I see what you're thinking." She ran back to the living room for the powder and brush. When she returned, she dusted the handle on the toilet then scanned the fingerprint.

"Jelani, are you getting this?"

An eternity later, Jelani said, "The print belongs to Ali Hassan. He's been in the States for a year on a student visa."

Kilmer smiled. Gotcha, he thought.


	5. circles

__

chapter five: circles

Frankie couldn't stop coughing. Kilmer rubbed her back, telling her it would all be okay.

"Hang in there, Mrs. Kilmer."

"You know, I'm not really Mrs. Kilmer anymore," she said when the coughing fit passed.

He smiled. "So why did you keep the name?"

"I don't know."

He brushed her hair away from her face. "Where did we go wrong?"

"I don't have that answer either."

Someone grabbed her arm and Kilmer disappeared again. "Get up, you American slut. Fasil wishes to see you."

Frankie stumbled up the stairs, Hassan pushing her from behind. Fasil was waiting at the table. Frankie wondered if there was a certain irony that her place of torture should be a kitchen. She'd never been very domesticated. Kilmer was the better cook. He'd loved cooking for her. Well, she amended, when he was home he'd loved cooking for her.

"Allah is merciful. You have a chance to live. Will you take it?"

Frankie shivered; struggling to follow the conversation. She didn't want to be here. She wanted to be with Kilmer again.

Fasil grabbed her hair, twisting it in his hands and forcing her to look at him. "Do you believe that Allah is the one true God?"

She coughed to clear her throat and forced herself to concentrate. "Does Allah tell you to kill people?"

"If it serves His purpose."

"Does he tell you that woman are second-rate citizens? That you get to treat us like dirt? That's not what the Qur'an says—"

"Shut up!" Fasil threw her to the floor and began kicking her. "You are worse than dirt. You are nothing!"

"Fasil!" Hassan pulled him away from her.

Frankie slowly got to her feet, leaning on the back of the chair to keep from collapsing. She looked Fasil in the eye when she said, "No. I do not believe that Allah is the one true God."

"Then you will die."

Her smile was cold. "See you in hell."

Fasil spat at her. She didn't flinch.

"Get this whore out of my sight!"

Hassan took her arm and led her back downstairs. He was gentler than he'd been earlier. "I am sorry you are hurt."

"Do you believe I deserve to die?"

"I do not know." He glanced back up the stairs. "I do not believe that you should suffer so. You should not provoke him."

"Why are you helping him?"

Hassan seemed surprised by the question. "It is my duty."

"When does he plan to kill me?"

Hassan shook his head. "I am sorry. I have already said too much." He went back up.

Frankie stopped pretending to be strong. She fell to her knees and wept.

* * *

Kilmer felt useless; he wanted to be at the Vault, searching for Frankie. His frustration at the lack of progress had gotten so bad that Atkins had sent him home and ordered him to rest.

As if he could rest at a time like this, he thought. Atkins didn't understand. No one understood. He and Frankie had parted on bad terms. She never got his message so she couldn't know that he was sorry. He had to find her; he had a lifetime of apologizing to do.

Lying in bed wasn't going to help. He got up and went through to the living room. A photo album was on the shelf. Kilmer picked it up and sat down, opening it to the first picture. He wasn't sure how it had ended up with his things and he kept meaning to return it to Frankie, but tonight he was glad he had it.

Frankie smiled out at him, posing in a black bikini. In the next picture, she held up a cocktail, framed by the setting sun. His arm was around her and they were happy.

He couldn't look further. Right now he'd give anything to be back in Jakarta with her, celebrating their honeymoon.

The phone rang. "Kilmer."

"John, I'm glad I caught you. You're never at home." The voice was mildly chastising.

Kilmer sighed. "Hello, Mom."

"Although it is Friday night. You should be out. You work too hard."

Kilmer loved his mother, but he couldn't bear her gentle teasing right now. "Mom, Frankie's missing."

Faye Kilmer fell silent. "Our Frankie?"

"Yes."

"What are you doing to find her?"

"Everything we can." He looked down at the photograph, tracing Frankie's outline with his finger.

"Do you want me to come up?"

Kilmer smiled. His mother had moved to Miami when her husband died. It was testament to how much she cared for Frankie that she was willing to come to Washington. "No, it's okay."

"How are you doing?"

"I'm okay."

"John." Faye's tone conveyed her disbelief. "I'm your mother, you can't fool me."

Kilmer was quiet for a while. Then he said, "I miss her. I can't stop thinking about her."

"Well, when you get her back, I hope you take your head out of your ass and tell her how you feel."

Kilmer smiled; his mother's vocabulary had become considerably more colorful since her move. "Ass, Mom?"

"Are you still planning on coming down for Christmas?"

"Yes." If he found Frankie, but he didn't dare add that. Faye seemed to have confidence that he would; he prayed she was right.

"Good. Bring Frankie with you. She's my family too, you know."

"I will."

"Well, I suppose I'll let you get back to doing whatever it is you were doing. Call me when you find her, okay? I love you."

"You too, Mom."

Kilmer hung up, his spirits oddly lighter. He returned to the bedroom, pulling open his bedside drawer. He picked up his wedding ring and turned it over in his fingers.

Frankie slid the ring onto his finger. "With this ring, I thee wed."

"With this ring, I thee wed." Kilmer mimicked the action, then captured Frankie's mouth in a kiss. "I love you."

Kilmer slipped the ring on his finger.

"The unbroken circle is for eternity," Frankie said.

"Looks like you're stuck with me for good."

She laughed. "You'd better make it worth my while."

Kilmer got down on his knees. He needed all the help he could get, and figured it couldn't hurt to ask God.

* * *

Frankie was on a beach somewhere. The ebb and flow of the tides was making her sleepy. Kilmer was with her, rubbing sunscreen on her back.

"I wish we could stay here forever," she said.

"But we'll get wet."

"Wet?"

Kilmer nodded, his expression grave. "There's a storm coming. I don't think we're going to make it."

"But the sun's shining."

"You're burning."

Frankie shivered, and she was back in the cellar. The material of the dress was soaked through and her skin was hot. Maybe she did deserve this. Alpha-126 had died because of her.

"Kilmer . . . John." She coughed. "John, come back, please."

No one came.


	6. perseus' prize

__

chapter six: perseus' prize

The crew on the freighter was killed by a new, deadly, strain of flu, Holly signed when Kilmer arrived at the Vault on Saturday morning.

"Flu?" Kilmer's eyebrows rose in disbelief.

A superflu.

"You ever read 'The Stand'?" Angel asked. "Scary stuff."

"What about Mo and Tim?"

CDC wants to keep them quarantined for a few more days, just to make sure they weren't infected.

"What can you tell me about Ali Hassan?" Kilmer asked. He hadn't slept much, unable to stop thinking about Frankie and what she was going through.

Jelani tapped at the keyboard, bringing up the relevant information. "He's twenty-four years old. Came here last summer from Abu Dhabi on a student visa. He's enrolled at Georgetown University—"

"Didn't Fasil fly here from Abu Dhabi?" Angel walked over to them.

"Do you think there's a connection?"

"I don't know. Jelani, see if you can link Fasil and Hassan."

Kilmer and Angel were quiet as Jelani typed in the request. "They're half-brothers. Same mother, different fathers."

"Damn it." Kilmer sat down. "What do they want with Frankie?"

"This is just a wild guess but Frankie was all over the news when she was on trial. Maybe they figured she'd be a good target because of what she does." Angel looked at the group and shrugged. "Just a theory."

Kilmer stood, beginning to pace. It was either that or punch something. "Okay. Let's go with the assumption that they're working together. We need to find out where they could have gone. Jelani, get me a photograph of Hassan."

He had a hunch. Depending on what Ally Jackson said when she saw the photograph, they could have a lead.

* * *

Fasil was working on the bomb when Hassan woke up. He watched his brother for a while, then sat down.

"Someday you must teach me to build that."

Fasil looked up and smiled. "After this. There is time."

"I do not understand why it has to be so soon."

Fasil stopped working. "It has to be Monday. Allah wishes it so."

Hassan bowed his head. "I will not argue with Allah. But, brother, I am curious. I do not understand why the woman is so important."

"She is, what do the Americans say? Window dressing." Fasil laughed. "Her death will be like poetry."

* * *

Angel watched Kilmer leave with Hassan's photograph. "Is he usually so obsessed?"

Lark looked up from the file she was reading. "Kilmer? He's always focused but when it comes to Frankie . . . well, you see what he's like."

Holly chuckled. _It's like the rest of the world doesn't matter._

Angel nodded. That was a pretty fair assessment. She pulled up a chair next to Jelani. "Anything exciting happening in DC the next few days?"

Jelani opened a new window. "Quite a bit. The Supreme Court is meeting on Monday morning. In the afternoon, there's an anti-war demonstration at Dupont Circle and the Pentagon has called a press conference. On Tuesday the President is meeting a few injured soldiers at Bethesda . . . no, wait, that's been moved to Monday as well."

"And Fasil could have picked any one of those." Angel leaned back in her chair. "The injured soldiers, where were they transferred from?"

"Baghdad."

Holly banged the table to get their attention. _Hassan has been renting a farmhouse in Virginia since January._

"Do you have the address?"

I'm printing it now.

Angel grabbed it from the printer. She turned her earpiece on. "Kilmer, listen up."

* * *

"I need insulation tape."

Hassan held his hands up, palms facing outward. "I have no more."

"Take the woman more water. I am going to the shop." Fasil picked up the car keys and headed for the door. "Do not let her tempt you, brother. Remember what she is."

Hassan nodded. "I will not let you down, brother."

He thought about the woman in the cellar as he filled a glass with water. She had not tried to plead for her life. Nor had she thrown herself at their mercy. Instead, like a man, she had stood up to her fate and accepted it. She was certainly like no other woman Hassan had encountered in his time in America. Perhaps she didn't deserve to die. He was impressed that she had been able to quote the Qur'an.

But she had denied Allah. That was unforgivable.

Hassan hardened his heart and took her the water.

* * *

Ally frowned as she studied the photograph. "I don't know. I wasn't really paying that much attention."

"Please look again. It's Frankie's life at stake."

Ally bit her lip, tilting her head to one side. "The pizza guy was wearing a cap. But . . . yeah. It is him."

"You're sure?" Kilmer couldn't afford to take chances with Frankie's life.

"Yeah." Ally pointed to the photograph. "I remember thinking he was cute, in a George Clooney kind of way. That whole strong jaw thing, I guess. But like I said, the guy was rude, so I pretty much forgot about him."

Kilmer's smile was genuine. "Thank you."

Angel's voice was in his ear, "Kilmer, listen up. We have a location on Hassan."

* * *

Frankie watched Hassan leave. Time was running out, of that she was sure. With trembling hands, she brought the glass to her lips and sipped the water.

"Don't give up on me, Mrs. Kilmer."

Frankie smiled, glad Kilmer was back. "If you stop disappearing."

"I'm here now."

"What will you do if I die?"

"You're not going to die."

She coughed. "I might not have a choice in that."

"Frankie, if you even think about dying—" Kilmer hugged her. "It's not going to happen."

"I'm so tired."

He kissed her cheek. "Then sleep. I'll take care of you. I'm not going anywhere."

Frankie closed her eyes.

* * *

Hassan was praying for wisdom when the lights went out. He went around to the back of the house, hoping that the power had just tripped. Fasil would not be pleased.

"Don't move." Something cold and metallic was pressed against his neck. Hassan wisely did as he was told. "Where's Frankie?"

Hassan said nothing.

"I'm going to find her. If you tell me where she is, I might not have to kill you."

Hassan had no desire to be a martyr. He hoped Allah would forgive him. "In the cellar."

"Good. How many people are here?"

"I am alone."

"Where's your brother?"

Hassan squeezed his eyes shut. How did this man know everything? Maybe Fasil was wrong. Maybe this woman was special.

"He went to the shop. For insulation tape."

"If you're lying—"

"I'm not!"

Hassan felt himself being handcuffed. A different man took him to a van and shoved him inside.

Hassan prayed.

* * *

Kilmer hoped Hassan had been telling the truth. He slipped into the house, Angel close behind. She searched the other rooms, letting him be the one to find the cellar.

And Frankie.

He swung the door open and shone the light down the stairs. Frankie was curled up at the bottom. She was too far away for him to tell if she was breathing. He hurried to her side.

"Frankie!"

He shone the flashlight over her, horrified at the damage he saw. She was bruised and the right side of her face was covered with dry blood. She was freezing and her skin was damp. But she was alive.

"Frankie!"

He picked her up, needing to get her out of here as soon as he could. She moaned, curling into him. "John . . . knew you'd come . . . like Perseus . . . knew you'd save me . . ."

Angel was waiting in the kitchen. "How is she?"

"Alive."

"There's an ambulance on the way."

Kilmer was already halfway out the door. "I'm not waiting."

"Kilmer! Don't take her to Bethesda."

Kilmer stopped and turned around. "Why?"

"A hunch. I think that's Fasil's target. I don't know if he'll still try, but . . ."

"I'll see you back in DC."

Kilmer carefully laid Frankie on the backseat of his car and covered her with his coat. Then he jumped into the driver's seat and sped off.


	7. jihad

__

chapter seven: jihad

Fasil was on his way back to the farm when a police car overtook him, its lights flashing and siren wailing. When it turned up the road to the farmhouse, Fasil slowed his car. There was no doubt as to the other car's destination; that road only led to one place.

Fasil turned the car around. His brother must have made a mistake somewhere along the line, he thought.

Or maybe Allah was punishing him. There had been a moment, looking at the woman, that Fasil had felt the stirring of desire. That was why he'd told Hassan to fetch clothing for her. Yet even covered, she was attractive. It was her spirit that fueled his interest, but her body that he wanted.

Fasil was struggling with his own _jihad_ – an inner war to rid himself of his lustful thoughts about the woman.

He worried about his brother. Hassan was weaker than he was. The woman had probably seduced him and managed to escape.

There was still time to please Allah. He could still go through with the plan. The woman wasn't necessary.

As Fasil drove, he thanked Allah for the chance to redeem himself.

* * *

Kilmer paced up and down the waiting room, glancing every few seconds at the doors on the end of the corridor. They'd taken Frankie through them, the doctor promising to return as soon as there was news. Kilmer had listened to Angel and brought Frankie to GW Memorial, one of the hospitals cleared to treat the president. And if it was good enough for the president, it was good enough for Frankie.

He hoped the doctor knew what he was doing. When they'd taken Frankie away, he'd explained to Kilmer what they had to do. While Kilmer waited, the doctor's words ran endlessly through his mind. _Raise her body's core temperature . . . extent of the dehydration . . . concern regarding her head injury . . . uncontrolled shivering is a symptom of mild hypothermia . . . don't worry . . . is there a chance your wife may be pregnant? . . . chest x-rays . . . don't worry . . . it's a good sign that she's alert . . . don't worry . . ._

Don't worry. Kilmer couldn't do anything but worry. Where was that doctor? Surely it wasn't supposed to take this long.

"Agent Kilmer, why don't you take a seat." A nurse smiled at him from behind the reception desk. Kilmer shook his head, she didn't understand. He couldn't relax until he knew for sure that Frankie would be okay.

A few minutes later the doctor appeared, smiling. That was a good sign, Kilmer thought.

"Agent Kilmer, we've stabilized your wife. As I suspected, she is suffering from mild hypothermia. The chest x-ray revealed she's also contracted pneumonia. We've put her on an IV to rehydrate her. The CAT scan was clear. The rest are minor injuries; two cracked ribs, and an assortment of bruises. She should recover completely."

Kilmer felt as guilty as if he had caused each injury himself. "When can I see her?"

"Now, if you're ready."

Kilmer nodded. He followed the doctor to Frankie's room, stopping just inside the door. Frankie looked so small and fragile in the bed. There was an IV hooked to her arm. Red, blue and green lines ran across the screen of a monitor, tracking her vitals. Her face had been cleaned and Kilmer could see the stitches in her temple. It was close enough to her hairline that the scar would be hidden. Forgetting about the doctor, he crossed the room and took Frankie's hand.

"I'm sorry I didn't find you sooner."

Frankie's eyes fluttered open and she gave a drowsy smile. "Hey."

Kilmer couldn't help himself. He lay next to her, and held her close. Frankie turned, seeking his mouth with hers. She grabbed his shirt, and kissed him hungrily. Kilmer realized she was crying, and broke the kiss.

"I don't know if you're real."

"Frankie—"

"You feel real, but then you always do."

"I am real."

"You always say that. But they'll come for me and then you'll go away."

"I'm not going anywhere."

For some reason, that made Frankie cry harder. Kilmer didn't know what to do, so he just held her.

* * *

Hassan hunched forward in his chair. His wrists and ankles were shackled. Worst of all, he was being questioned by a woman. He refused to look at the redhead.

"Where is your brother?"

He said nothing.

"Hassan, I can help you. You have to help me first, though."

"Will the woman live?"

"Yes."

Hassan nodded. "Good. I did not want her to die. She is very brave."

"But you don't have a problem with all the other people your brother is going to kill."

"I do not know them."

"That doesn't mean their lives have any less value than Frankie's."

Hassan fell silent again. Then, "Fasil believes it is Allah's will to sacrifice those people. Our countries are at war. In war, people die. Sometimes they are innocent. Allah will deal with them all."

"Is that what Fasil told you?"

"Fasil is wiser than I am."

The woman sat down opposite him. "Is Bethesda Naval Hospital the target?"

Hassan looked up. These people knew everything!

"It is, isn't it? Hassan, tell me where your brother went. If he succeeds, you will be an accessory to murder. Life in prison, maybe the death penalty."

"If it is Allah's will—"

The woman stood. "Guard, I'm done here."

* * *

Lark gently shook Kilmer's shoulder, waking him. For a moment he forgot what had happened; Frankie was asleep in his arms and everything was as it should be.

"Kilmer, Fasil's missing."

Kilmer was instantly alert. "What?"

"He never went back to the farmhouse. Angel spoke to Hassan for a while, but he wouldn't say where Fasil might have gone."

Kilmer carefully climbed off the bed. "Where's Angel now?"

"At the Vault. Jelani and Holly are running a search of all his known acquaintances. I'll stay here if you need to go back."

"Yeah." Kilmer glanced down at Frankie and bent to kiss her forehead. He let his lips linger for a moment then straightened. "Thanks, Lark."

Lark pulled the visitor's chair closer to the bed when Kilmer left. "I know I'm your friend, but I don't think we're at the cuddling stage." She smiled. "Looks like you and Kilmer have got something to talk about when you wake up though. I noticed he's wearing his ring again."

* * *

"Hey, Kilmer. How's Frankie?" Jelani asked.

"She'll be okay. She was still asleep when I left." Kilmer sat at the conference table and looked expectantly at his colleagues. "What have you got for me?"

"Bethesda was the target. Atkins has cancelled the president's visit and put the hospital on high alert," Angel said.

"Good. Now we just have to find Fasil." Kilmer saw Angel's closed expression; she was hiding something. "What's wrong?"

Angel glanced at the other team members. Jelani nodded. She took a deep breath. "Promise me you're going to stay calm."

"Angel—"

"Okay. We found blueprints at the farmhouse. Fasil had jotted down notes for what he wanted to do . . . Kilmer, they were going to strap the bomb to Frankie and wheel her in on a gurney. They gave themselves two minutes to escape."

Kilmer felt distanced from it all. "Was she going to be alive when the bomb went off?"

"Yeah."

Kilmer stood and swiped the table clean, throwing files, pens and notepads to the floor. Then he bent forward, his palms flat on the tabletop, staring at his reflection in the glass. Frankie, blown up. Oh, God.

I've got a hit! Holly tapped a few keys then sat back so everyone could see. _Hassan had a dorm mate at Georgetown – Ali Iyad. He dropped out two weeks ago._

Kilmer read his current address, committing it to memory. "Angel, let's go."

* * *

Ali Iyad now rented a small apartment in Alexandria. Angel arranged for backup, but Kilmer made them wait outside. "If we take them by surprise, we'll be fine," he said.

Angel knocked on the door while Kilmer stood out of sight. A young man answered, his expression sullen. "Yes?"

"I was wondering if you could help me. I'm moving in next door, and there's a box that's too heavy for me . . ." She smiled.

Iyad nodded, stepping into the hallway. Kilmer grabbed him, pressing down hard on his pressure points. He sank to the floor, unconscious. Kilmer and Angel entered the apartment, their guns drawn.

Kilmer found Fasil in the kitchen, studying ground plans. "Stand up. Keep your hands where I can see them."

Fasil stood, kicking the table over. Kilmer fired a warning shot. Fasil raised his hands. Kilmer stepped closer, then backhanded him. Fasil fell to the floor. Kilmer put his gun on the counter and bent down, grabbing the collar of Fasil's shirt.

And all Kilmer could see was Frankie as he'd found her in that cellar – delirious, broken, bruised. His only thought was that Fasil had to pay for hurting her, for wanting to kill her. His hands tightened around Fasil's neck.

Fasil saw the hardness in Kilmer's eyes and gave a bitter laugh. "You Americans are pathetic. You would kill me for the love of a woman! Where's the nobility in that?"

Kilmer froze. He hadn't stopped to wonder why he'd come after Fasil with such rage. He'd automatically attributed it to his protectiveness of Frankie. If it had been Lark, Holly or Angel, he'd have reacted the same way.

But he wouldn't have lain awake all night, missing her with an ache he'd never thought possible, pleading with God to bring her back . . . He'd put his wedding ring on.

Yes, he still loved Frankie.

Fasil laughed again. "You didn't know, did you? Shall I tell you how she called for you? How—"

Kilmer punched Fasil, cutting off his sentence. "Shut up!"

Suddenly Angel was at his side, her hand on his shoulder. "He's not going anywhere, Kilmer."

Kilmer thought of Frankie in the hospital bed, thin and pale. _"I don't know if you're real."_

He hit Fasil again and again and again. Angel had to forcibly pull him away.

"Kilmer! Don't do this. Don't make him a martyr."

"Frankie—"

"She's fine. Go back to her. She needs you now. Fasil will get what he deserves."

Kilmer nodded, then knelt at Fasil's side. Bending his head to Fasil's ear, he said, "There's nothing pathetic about love. But I don't expect you to understand that."

He stood and turned to Angel. "Let's get him out of here."

* * *

Frankie was awake when Kilmer returned to the hospital. She smiled when she saw him enter. Lark stood. "Guess that's my cue to leave."

Neither Frankie nor Kilmer heard her. "Where'd you go?"

Kilmer crossed to her side and held her hand. He was glad to be back with her; glad everything had worked out. "We found Fasil."

"Oh." Frankie's smile disappeared. "And?"

"He's in custody." He couldn't bring himself to tell her of the encounter. Fasil's words haunted him: _"You would kill me for the love of a woman!"_ What scared Kilmer was that he would have. If Angel hadn't been there . . .

"And Hassan?"

"Also in custody."

"Good."

Kilmer studied their joined hands. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I've been hit by a planet."

He suddenly needed to be touching more of her. Reclaiming his earlier position, he wrapped his arms around her. Instead of protesting, she returned the embrace.

"You scared me, Mrs. Kilmer."

"Sorry," she mumbled into his shirt.

"It's okay. Don't do it again."

Her laugh turned into a cough.

"Aw, shit, Frankie. Can I do anything to help?"

"Just stay with me."

Kilmer had no desire to be anywhere else. It would take nothing short of a presidential order to tear him from Frankie's side. And even that might not be enough, he thought as he studied her face. She smiled when he cupped her cheek in his palm. In that instant, his mind was made up: he was going to do whatever it took to win back her heart.

The end.

Thanks for reading! And because I'm enjoying this storyline too much to stop here, look out for the sequel "tabula rasa" coming soon.


End file.
